Til Death do us Part
by oz diva
Summary: AU *** Major character death *** What happens when Marilla dies? How do her loved ones cope without her?
1. Chapter 1

**'Til Death Do Us Part**

 _I know I've already written a death scene for Marilla, but I didn't know her so well back then, also she didn't have a husband by her side. Warning it does get a bit graphic._

Marilla wasn't feeling quite right. Her stomach felt heavy and she had lost her appetite. Over dinner one night John commented that she hadn't eaten much. "Are you well Mar?" He asked concernedly, "You seem to be losing weight. I've noticed that you haven't eaten much for a while now."

"I don't know John, I don't feel particularly hungry these days."

"Maybe we should take you to the doctor."

"Oh I'm sure that's not necessary, look I'm enjoying this mouthful here", she made a show of eating the last of her dinner, but if she were being honest she did not feel well. She didn't want to worry anyone, hating the idea of anyone fussing over her.

"I think a check up would be a good idea Mar, I'll take you to the doctor in the morning."

* * *

The doctor welcomed them in and asked what the matter was. "She's not eating much Doc, I'm worried" said John.

"Mrs Blythe, would you like your husband here in the room with you, or would you like to see me on your own?"

"I think I'd like to be on my own." John looked shocked. "Sorry John, I just need to speak to the doctor by myself."

"If you're sure?"

"Yes please."

"So Mrs Blythe, tell me how you feel?"

"I'm not feeling right doctor, I've no appetite, I feel lethargic, my stomach feels sort of heavy, and there's a persistent dull ache."

"Please take your dress and corset off, and I'll help you get up onto the examination table here." She lay down. "I'm just going to feel around your stomach. Tell me if anything hurts." The doctor prodded and poked, he seemed interested in one section of her lower stomach and went back to feel it a few times. "Has there been any blood in your stool?"

"A bit, I suppose."

"Mrs Blythe, you should have come earlier. Blood is never a healthy sign."

She shrugged.

"All right, you can get dressed now."

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure, but I think you might have a cancer of the stomach."

Marilla started, "are you sure?"

"No I'm not sure, the only way to be sure is to operate on you, but I'm not keen to put your body through that strain, there's no much we can do about it in any event."

"Will it kill me?"

"Mrs Blythe, I am very sorry to say that it probably will."

"Oh how am I going to tell John and Anne? How long do I have?" Marilla's eyes filled with tears and she searched for her handkerchief.

"Mrs Blythe you probably only have a few months at best, shall we invite your husband back in? I can break the news to him."

"Yes please." The doctor went to the door and asked John to join them. John walked in warily. He saw Marilla in tears in a chair opposite the doctors desk.

"What is it darling, what's the matter?"

"Oh John", Marilla sobbed. "Hold me." Mystified John sat next to Marilla and hugged her. She nestled into his chest and wept.

The doctor sat down, took off his glasses and said "Mr Blythe I think your wife has cancer of the stomach."

"Oh!" John felt the floor drop away. Tears came to his eyes. "Will, will it kill her?"

"Yes, I'm afraid it will." The doctor admitted gently.

"Can't you do anything?"

"All we could do is operate, but it's unlikely she would survive the surgery and it's also unlikely that we would be able to remove the whole cancer without having to remove most of her stomach too. Even if she did survive the surgery, her quality of life would be much diminished and it might not buy her much time. I suggest you talk it over with your son Mr Blythe. But I'm sure he will agree with my diagnosis."

"What is the treatment?"

"When it's too painful to bear, we can administer pain relief, that's really all that can be done."

"So what do we do now?" John asked. Marilla was still too upset to talk.

"For now, I would go home and enjoy yourselves as much as you can. Mrs Blythe I predict that you will start feeling quite ill in a few weeks. I think you should make the most of the time before then, while you still feel relatively well."

They stumbled out of the doctor's office in shock and drove home.

Over a cup of tea, which neither of them drank, they looked at each other. Marilla held out her hand and John clutched it.

"John I hate to do this to you, after Caroline."

John picked up her hand and kissed it, "Darling Marilla you have filled these last few years with an unlooked for joy. I have no regrets, none at all."

"We had better let Anne and Gilbert know. Do you want me to do it Mar?"

"No, I want to, I'll give Anne a call, stay by me though."

He smiled, "Always."

Marilla walked over to the phone and asked the operator to put her through to Ingleside, Glen St Mary. Susan answered the phone.

"Good afternoon Mrs Blythe, I hope you are well?"

Marilla found she was speechless.

"I'll just fetch Mrs Doctor Dear for you." There was a pause and Marilla heard Anne's beloved voice asking if everything was all right? Marilla couldn't answer and seeing her distress John took the phone from her and broke the news to Anne.

Over at Ingleside, Anne felt her knees give way and she sat down. "Oh John, how is she?"

"Well right now she's very upset, she's just trying to come to terms with it."

"What does the doctor say, how long does she have?"

"A few months he thinks, and she will start feeling quite unwell soon."

"Do you want to come and visit us?"

John looked over to Marilla, "Anne is asking us to visit, do you want to?"

"Maybe in a week or so."

"Anne, we might come in a little while, Marilla just has to get her head around the situation."

"Do you want me to come and visit on my own?"

Marilla nodded.

"Yes, please do, she needs her girl."

* * *

The next day John met Anne at the railway station.

"How is she John?"

"She's shaken to the core; this was unexpected. There have been a great many tears in the last twenty four hours."

"And more to come, I'm sure."

John placed his hand over Anne's "We'll have to look after each other and her."

As soon as the buggy arrived at Green Gables, Anne was out and and running towards the front door, she ran straight into Marilla's arms and sobbed.

"Well it's God's will, Anne. There's nothing that can be done about it."

"Marilla just you saying that tells me how distressed you are. You always fall back on God when you're most upset."

"Do I?"

"How are you feeling physically right now?"

"I'm just a bit uncomfortable in my stomach, barely an ache, but it's been there for a few weeks."

"Oh darling, why didn't you say anything?"

"I hoped it would go away."

"Is there anything you want me to do?"

"Come with me to Rachel's, I don't know how to break the news to her."

"Shall we drive?"

"No I'd like to walk."

"Do you want John to come too?"

At the mention of John, Marilla's eyes filled with tears. "Oh Anne I hate to put him through this. He's lost one wife already. It's not fair."

Anne clutched her hand. There was nothing she could say to that. It wasn't.

As they walked down the lane Marilla was drinking in the sights, smells and sounds of her little home, wondering how long she'd be able to enjoy it all. She used to chide Anne for her romantic notions, but they made sense now. They arrived at Rachel's and Marilla paused on the doorstep.

"Do you want me to break the news Marilla?"

"I know I should, but it's so hard, we've been friends since the first day of school."

"Don't worry, leave it to me."

Anne knocked. Rachel answered and was surprised to see both women standing at the door. "Why good morning Anne, I didn't know you were here. Good morning Marilla, to what do I owe the honour of your visit?"

"May we sit down Rachel?"

"Yes, of course." Rachel noticed that Marilla hadn't spoken yet.

"Well, it's just that." When it came down to it, Anne found it hard to know how to put it herself; she glanced at Marilla who nodded.

"Is something the matter?" Rachel enquired. Their behaviour was very odd.

"Marilla is ill, Rachel."

"Oh dear, I do hope it's nothing serious."

Marilla's eyes filled with tears. "It's cancer, Rachel. I'm dying."

"Surely the doctor can treat it, can't he cut it out?"

"No, he doesn't think so, he thinks I'm too old for an operation and he doesn't think he could get it all anyway, it's in my stomach."

Rachel, for once in her life, was speechless. The two old friends just looked at each other with tears in their eyes. Anne left them to it and went to the kitchen to fetch some tea.

When she returned Rachel was planning the next month or so. "We'll do all those things we've been putting off all these years, I think dinner at White Sands is in order and a trip to Charlottetown. I've been meaning to explore the shops up there."

"That sounds lovely, Rachel, but what I most want to do is spend time here in my precious Avonlea and Green Gables and of course I must see the grandchildren … again." Marilla's voice caught at the end. It would be her darling children and grandchildren that she would miss the most, and John and Rachel of course. She hated to leave them so soon.

Once Rachel had been told, the word went out across Avonlea. The local cooks came to their rescue; eager to help in any way they could. Every day a cake or a plate of biscuits, a pie or a casserole or a pot of soup was delivered to Green Gables, The town must have set up a roster, because it came gradually, rather than all at once. It was their way of saying that they loved Marilla and John. Certainly it was very much appreciated, neither Anne nor John had any heart for cooking.

* * *

A couple of weeks later Marilla and John travelled to Ingleside to see the family. Susan wracked her brains and consulted cookery books to find the most delectable meals in an attempt to entice Marilla to eat, but she had lost her appetite and couldn't manage more than a few bites.

One afternoon shortly after they arrived Anne said "You look tired Marilla, why don't you go for a rest?"

"I think I will, if you don't mind."

Marilla loosened her stays and lay down in the bed and closed her eyes. She was exhausted. The door opened a crack and Nan crept in. "Aunt Marilla, may I keep you company?"

"Oh darling, that would be lovely."

Nan climbed up onto the bed and sat beside her grandmother. "I'll just tell you a story."

"Mm mm I might fall asleep while you're talking darling, but that's not because I'm bored, it's because I'm content."

Nan nodded happily and began weaving a story of princesses and castles. As she drifted off, Marilla wasn't sure who was speaking Anne or Nan?

About an hour later Anne found the two asleep in bed together, Nan's chubby arm resting on Marilla's chest. Afterwards she told Nan to let Marilla rest alone, but Marilla said that Nan had been a great comfort and that she was welcome to join her for a nap anytime.

Marilla, Anne and John went on short walks most afternoons, but Marilla tired quickly, so they would wander home to let Marilla rest in the garden. She was deteriorating quickly.

"John" she confided one day, "I think we should leave before I'm too frail to travel. I want to die at home."

They placed a mattress in the back of the buggy and took her to the train station. The family was due to come in a couple of weeks so they left long goodbyes 'til then, the children kissed their beloved grandmother farewell for now. Anne and John were escorting her home. She watched Ingleside disappear from view as the carriage took her away, knowing full well that she'd never see it again. Life seemed to be a succession of farewells these days.

Davy picked them up from the station. They'd asked him for a mattress in the back of his carriage too. Marilla was exhausted from the train and slept on the ride home. She had wanted to see the view for one last time, but her eyes closed as soon as she made it into the carriage and she did not stir as John carried her up the stairs and into bed.

Rachel arrived shortly after and enquired as to her state.

"She's going downhill Rachel", John said grimly.

"Is she in pain?"

"She hasn't complained about it, but I think she must be."

"Is she eating at all?"

"Barely. The journey exhausted her; I expect she'll sleep til morning Rachel. You're welcome to come by then."

Rachel did return the next day. She was shocked to see how quickly Marilla had deteriorated, but she hid it well.

"Good morning Marilla, I've missed you (and will miss you terribly, she thought). I thought I'd just sit a spell." They walked into the parlour and Marilla reclined on the chaise-longue. Anne bought them both a cup of coffee.

"I'll leave you two to visit. I'll do some washing."

Rachel and Marilla looked at each other. To Marilla's eyes Rachel looked the picture of health, but weeks of little food had caused Marilla to lose weight. She had always been thin, but now she was positively skeletal, there was a grey pallor to her skin as it stretched over her cheekbones.

Rachel picked up her coffee cup and sipped it appreciatively. "Are you having some?"

Marilla eyed the cup. "My hands are a bit shaky these days. I might lose the lot."

"Oh let me help you then." Rachel sat next to her and helped her have a few sips. As she did she could feel Marilla's hip bones jutting through her dress.

"Any more?"

"No that's fine." Rachel dabbed at Marilla's lips with a napkin.

"I'm struggling Rachel. I haven't told John or Anne, but I'm in constant pain now."

"You must tell them dear. They need to know."

"I'm afraid I'll be drugged up to the eyeballs Rachel. I don't want to waste my last days sleeping."

"Well you must let them know when it's unbearable."

"I promise you I will."

The old friends spent the morning reminiscing about old times, laughing when they recalled the exploits of Anne and Davy.

Anne declared that it was time for lunch and asked if Rachel wished to stay. "Will you be eating with us Marilla?"

"I'll try a couple of bites."

"I'll bring the tray in here then."

Anne helped Marilla with her lunch. There was a warm bowl of vegetable soup, she only managed a few spoonfuls.

John appeared. He'd been into town on a quick errand. They sat around the coffee table telling stories until Anne noticed that Marilla was drifting off. She nudged John mid-story, he picked her up and carried her up to bed.

"Anne how are you faring dear?" Rachel enquired kindly.

"It's hard to watch her disappear before my eyes Rachel. She rescued me, I wish I could do the same for her."

"You did already Anne."

"Whatever do you mean?"

'I mean you saved Marilla when you arrived here all those years ago."

"I think you're muddled Rachel, they saved me."

"Anne dear, they merely existed before you arrived. You brought them both back. Marilla always said her life began when you turned up. As small and skinny as you were you breathed life into Green Gables and all who dwelt in her."

Anne was shocked. "I never thought of it like that. I was just appreciative that they rescued me; I never thought I did anything in return."

"Well you did. She freely admits it. You should ask her about it."

Anne had much to ponder after Rachel left. Had she saved Matthew and Marilla? In her own crazy way, she supposed she must have.

* * *

The minister visited every couple of days and they would pray together. Marilla had always had a great faith in God and found his visits very comforting.

 _The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want._

 _He maketh me to lie down in green pastures,  
He leadeth me beside the still waters. _

_He restoreth my soul.  
He leadeth me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake._

 _Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,  
I will fear no evil, _

_For thou art with me;_

 _Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me._

 _Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.  
Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over._

 _Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,  
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever_ _.*_

* * *

They fell into a routine. Marilla would sleep late and when she woke up, John would carry her down stairs. She liked to lie on a couch they brought out to the veranda so she could see what was going on outside. While the warm weather lasted she wanted to spend as much time out there as she could. The fall colours were so bright, and cheerful. She told Anne that this was her favourite time of the year. She was pleased she got to see one more autumn.

Anne and John took turns doing chores and sitting with her. They had a nice time telling Anne all about their exploits over the past few years; their trips to New York, meeting Madame Melba and the time John ended up as part of a vaudeville act; the time they nearly lost Jem and Walter to the rip; the big blizzard of a year past; how she had cared for John when he broke his leg, Davy found them lying in the mud singing Ta Ra Ra Boom De Ay; what fun it had been going sledding with the children that Christmas when Santa had visited.

They told her about the weekend away at White Sands for their first anniversary and how they met the Smithers, how cold they found it on the beach, while John and Marilla were enjoying the warmth of the sand; John declared the spitched eel the most delicious thing he'd ever eaten. Anne squirmed when John teased Marilla about the places they found sand that night; Marilla noticed and told her she had to get used to the idea that they had enjoyed a full and physical marriage.

There was the time the children thought Marilla might be pregnant; they all mused about the Lizzie Borden case and who might have done it; how Marilla had taught John how to cook; just how unbearable Mary Maria had been, Anne laughed when she reminded Marilla just how short a time she had put up with her.

One afternoon Anne mentioned what Rachel had said a few weeks prior. That Anne herself had brought Marilla back to life.

"Oh yes, she's completely correct Anne. I was living a half-life before you arrived. I thought we needed a boy to help Matthew with the farm work, when what I needed was a girl to rescue me from utter boredom. We should really have thanked Mrs Spencer's niece for the error."

* * *

Marilla was lying on the chaise-longue and Anne was feeding her some beef stew. "Just one more spoonful now." Marilla was pretty full despite only having slowly eaten three spoonfuls. It was delicious, Mrs Andrews had provided it, but Marilla's appetite had dwindled to almost nothing now. She eyed the next mouthful with something bordering on disgust, although objectively she knew it was tasty. Obediently she opened her mouth for just a little bit more, just to please Anne. It felt foreign in her mouth and she swallowed it as best she could. The next thing she knew her stomach was objecting to the food in a violent manner, and she was vomiting her entire lunch and breakfast up and out in a massive spray.

Anne looked on in shock, and there was a pause while she collected her wits. She rushed off to find some towels, leaving Marilla sitting on the chaise-longue with vomit in her lap and dripping off her skirts. Anne rushed back in and put a towel on the floor, she helped Marilla upright and unbuttoned her dress.

"I'm s-s-so s-s-sorry" Marilla's teeth chattered. She was chilly all of a sudden, and not just because she was partially undressed.

"It's fine", Anne replied "doesn't matter a whit. Next time you say you're full, I'll believe you."

Anne helped Marilla take off the soiled dress. John appeared. "Everythi... oh it's not all right is it." He said taking in the scene before him. A half dressed Marilla was standing before a vomit bespattered Anne. He sprang over to help.

"What happened?"

"I cajoled Marilla to eat one ..." Marilla went another shade of green at Anne's words.

"I'll tell you later, let's just sort this out."

"Shall I take you up to bed Marilla, leave Anne to get cleaned up?"

He picked her up and said over his shoulder "We need to hire a nurse Anne." He laid Marilla down on the bed and swung her legs around.

"John I think I soiled myself too." Marilla admitted shyly. John peeked under her petticoat, it was streaked with reddish brown faeces.

"Oh dear, yes you did." He rushed downstairs to fetch some water and more towels.

Anne was wiping the couch. "Oh, what now?"

"It came out both ends."

She visibly blanched.

"Don't worry I'll look after this. We'll need a bath afterwards." John dashed back upstairs with a bowl of warm water, soap and a handful of towels. "Let's get these petticoats off darling." It was a messy business, the diarrhoea had gone everywhere. Anne had to come up to assist. Marilla was exhausted and fell asleep before they were finished. John and Anne silently worked, cleaning her and changing the bedsheets.

"So what did happen Anne?"

"When she says she's had enough, don't cajole her into more. That's all I'll say."

"Right. Got it."

They left her in the bed and crept downstairs. John pulled out the bathtub. Anne was shocked at the size of it, "You could fit two people in there." He filled every receptacle he could lay his hands on and put them on the stove.

As they waited for the water to heat, he bought up the topic from before, "I know we've delayed getting a nurse Anne, but I think we need one now. An extra pair hands would have been very useful today, plus she's embarrassed when we see her this way."

"Yes. I know. I just hoped we could manage ourselves, but you're right."

"I didn't like the look of her faeces, there was a lot of blood in it. I'm going to call the doctor.

The doctor arrived shortly after. "Had a bad day?" He asked.

"Yes." They described the scene of devastation.

"It happens. Do you think you need a trained nurse to assist with her care?"

"Yes we do."

"I'll organise one for you. She should arrive tomorrow."

They were such an intimate household of three that it was strange to welcome another person in. But they knew Nurse Weekly, she had looked after John when he broke his leg. She was sorry to meet her patient and to see her in this state.

"Good morning Mrs Blythe. I'm here to give Mr Blythe, Mrs Blythe and you a hand."

"Nurse, I think you'll have to call us all by our first names, or it will get too confusing. It's Marilla, John and Anne."

"Very well, first names it is, I'm Grace." Grace bustled around, taking Marilla's temperature, fixing her pillows, checking the water jug was full. "Do you need anything else Marilla? A drink of water perhaps?"

"Yes, just a sip please." Grace bent over and gave Marilla a drink. "I've heard it's a case of a little at a time."

"Oh you heard about that did you? Yes, it was rather messy here yesterday, I felt like such a fool."

"You mustn't think that way Marilla. You're ill, it's not your fault. It's not like you did it on purpose."

* * *

One day Marilla commented "You know, Anne, I think perhaps you ought to summon Gilbert and the children. I don't think I'm going to last too much longer. I want to say farewell to them all, they're all so gorgeous. I'm going to miss them. I wish I could watch them all grow up and have children of their own, but at least I can imagine Jem and Di's red-headed children and all the rest."

A couple of days later Gilbert arrived with all the children in tow. He had warned them that their grandmother was very ill, would look thinner than before and may not be awake for long. All they had to remember was that she loved them very much and dearly wanted to see them.

"Is she going to die, Dad?" Jem asked tremulously.

"Yes son she is."

"Isn't there anything you can do, Dad, you're a doctor?" Di asked.

"No sweetie, even us doctors have our limits. Aunt Marilla is very ill. We just have to show her we love her and support Mum and Grandpa too."

The children all crowded around her on the veranda when they arrived. They were shocked at how she looked. Gilbert had warned them not to mention it, but it wasn't easy. Their beloved grandmother was wasting away. "Aunt Maywilla, are you weally going to die?" Rilla asked.

Anne gasped and went to hush her, but Marilla waved her concerns away. "I'm afraid I am, darling."

"Are you scared?"

"No, I know I'll be reunited with my beloved Matthew and I'll meet your big sister Joy who I only knew for such a little time. I'll be looking down on you all, watching you grow up."

"Will you be in heaven then?" Nan wanted to know.

"I sincerely hope so, darling. Even if I'm not here to talk to in person, don't think that means you can't talk to me, I'll still be listening, even if I can't answer." Anne led the children away after that. Marilla didn't have the stamina for long conversations.

Gilbert sat down next to her. "How are you Marilla? Are you in much pain?"

"A bit, it's bearable though."

"I'm pretty sure it isn't. Can't I give you something for it?"

"I don't want to miss out on anything yet, Gilbert."

Gilbert and the children stayed for a couple of days, but they could tell that the children were exhausting her. Anne and Gilbert discussed it after dinner one day, Marilla asleep in her bed. "I think you better take them home tomorrow, Gil. It's too much for her." Gilbert broke the news to the children in the morning. It was hard, he knew they would never see her again. They all kissed her farewell. Nan and Di gave her a bunch of flowers they had gathered. They were all openly crying and waving as Davy drove the carriage out the gate.

* * *

John went to pick her up one morning to take her down stairs as usual and she groaned as sweat broke out on her brow.

"Mar you're in pain."

She nodded at him with gritted teeth. "I'll ring the doctor."

The doctor walked in shortly after and said "Mrs Blythe you've held out longer than most. In fact I can't recall another patient who hasn't succumbed by this stage. I'm just going to give you some morphia. That will help." He slid the needle into her vein and they watched as her body, tense with acute pain, relaxed as the drug did its work. She fell asleep at once.

"How long do you think she has Doc?"

"Only a few days now; we'll have to keep her pain free. Her quality of life has been diminishing as the cancer has taken hold."

"She's barely made a complaint."

"She's a strong woman John. I'd say she's been downplaying her pain for some time. I know she was trying to put off this moment for as long as possible."

If Marilla couldn't make it outside any more, Anne made it her job to bring the world to her. She gathered late flowering roses and fall leaves to place in her room, replacing them every day. She sat down and described the scene outdoors to her and read poetry as Grace bustled around.

 _"Hope" is the thing with feathers -  
_ _That perches in the soul -  
_ _And sings the tune without the words -  
_ _And never stops - at all -_

 _And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -  
_ _And sore must be the storm -  
_ _That could abash the little Bird  
_ _That kept so many warm -  
_

 _I've heard it in the chillest land -  
_ _And on the strangest Sea -  
_ _Yet - never - in Extremity -  
_ _It asked a crumb - of me.**_

* * *

Anne wandered up the lane one day and knocked on Rachel's door.

"Oh Anne, how are you dear?"

"I just need..." Words failed her.

"Come in dear, sit yourself down and I'll make us a cup of tea." Anne did as she bid and sat there staring out at nothing. Rachel bustled about setting out the tea things, sensing that Anne needed some space. Rachel poured the tea and Anne absent mindedly took it up and drank it. She was silent. Rachel followed her cue, she patted Anne on the hand and Anne clasped hers back. They sat in silence for a while. "I think you had better come up and say farewell soon Rachel. She hasn't got long now."

"I will Anne. I'm going to miss her." Tears ran down Anne's face. After about an hour she thanked Rachel for the tea and excused herself.

The next day Rachel knocked on the door of Green Gables and Anne admitted her. Rachel walked up the stairs and into the bedroom. Marilla was asleep, Rachel bent down and kissed her on her thin cheek and sat down next to her. Rachel didn't want to disturb her. She thought about all the times they'd spent together over the years. Oh she was going to miss her friend. They had had a wonderful relationship. After a while John came in and roused Marilla, "Mar, Rachel is here." Marilla opened her eyes, smiled at Rachel and whispered "Good afternoon Rachel." She was so quiet Rachel had to bend down to hear her.

"Good afternoon dear." There wasn't any point in asking how she was, she was dying. "I'll just sit with you a while, shall I?" Marilla imperceptibly nodded. Speaking was hard work, listening too, but she was happy to have her oldest friend there for comfort. She drifted off to sleep again and Rachel tip-toed out. She hugged John and Anne and walked home, sobbing.

* * *

John lay down in bed next to Marilla, she had stopped speaking, but she was still conscious and listening. He said "mind that time just after our wedding when Anne and Gilbert visited, we made love noisily and they ran away the next day, we laughed so hard." Marilla looked at him and smiled wanly. Laughter was beyond her, but she remembered that incident fondly.

She looked at him lovingly, hoping he knew the depth of her affection. She couldn't tell him, she was too weak to talk, but she loved having him there with her, just the two of them. She reached her hand out to him; it fell far short. Luckily he saw the gesture for what it was. He caressed her cheek, wiped her beautiful grey hair back from her forehead and reached over to clasp her hand and kissed her forehead. "I love you so much Marilla Blythe. _kiss_ Thank you for being my wife. _kiss_ I just wish we had had more time together, _kiss_ but we had a wonderful time, _kiss_ if not a long time. _kiss_ Don't worry, I know how much _kiss_ you love me, _kiss_ even if you cannot tell me now, _kiss_ I know. Rest easy, my darling." _kiss kiss kiss_

She had never cherished him more than in that moment. Their devotion went beyond words. Their love was pure and beautiful and unending, transcending death. She mouthed the words 'I love you' at him. No sound came out, but he understood perfectly.

Marilla fell asleep shortly afterwards. Wrapped in his warm arms, she felt safe and oh so treasured. She couldn't have been happier. She dreamt about their first dance. _Twirling, dizzy, breathless. Her nut-brown hair, loosely tied with a pretty blue ribbon was sailing out over her shoulders; her pink dress was likewise whirling in circles. She felt lighter than air, her feet her tripping over themselves in an effort to go faster faster faster. His big brown hands were around her slim waist, saving her from falling. They were dancing, dancing to the lively music. She could see his laughing eyes as he twirled with her. His lips were just in reach and she leant up to him, she could feel his warm lips on hers as they kissed...  
_

John felt her small weight in his arms, she was so thin, and he could feel every rib and her hips. Oh how he adored her, it broke his heart to lose her, but he knew how much she hurt. He would have given anything; he would have endured anything, to take her pain away. All he could do was tell her how much he adored her. He fell asleep eventually, his arms wrapped around her ravaged body.

He woke up early in the morning, somewhat stiff, her cold body still in his arms. "Oh Marilla" he sobbed. As much as he had predicted the end, he found he hadn't been prepared at all. He wept all over her nightgown which soaked up his tears. He lay there with her for some time until Grace came in to check on her. She found him lying next to Marilla's dead body.

"John ... John." He looked blearily up at her. "She's gone hasn't she."

He looked at her beautiful body and whispered "Yes, she's gone."

"Shall I leave you for a while longer?"

He nodded.

Grace knocked on Anne's door gently and walked in. Anne woke with a start. She said quietly "Marilla's gone. John is still with her, she died in her sleep."

Anne wept then too, she had tried to be brave for Marilla, for John and for Rachel, but at Grace's words a dam broke within and the tears flowed out of her. Grace hugged her. She didn't try to stop Anne from crying; it was perfectly natural.

* * *

Anne stood and looked at the body of her beloved mother. She couldn't cry just now, her tears had dried up. What she could do though was wash her. She heard the door open and turned around to see Rachel and Dora in the doorway. Wordlessly they walked over and helped Anne undress Marilla's emaciated body. Dora fetched some warm water, soap and a few cloths. Together they washed her, wiping each limb, her hands and feet and fingers and toes. They washed her breasts and stomach and turned her over to wash her back. Anne cleaned her face and brushed her hair. Then they dressed her again in her favourite blue dress and folded her hands across her stomach. Each of them bent down to kiss her on her forehead and said a silent goodbye.

John lay down next to her in bed. For one last time he wanted to fall asleep next to her. He had loved her when he was young, was estranged from her for far too long, and wondrously found her again in old age. They had shared a wonderful, if all too brief, marriage. He honestly didn't know how he could live without her and wasn't sure if he wanted to. Gilbert and Anne had offered him a place to live with them and he supposed he would. Rachel was moving in with one of her daughters.

Davy and Millie would move into Green Gables and fill it with love and laughter again.

* Psalm 23  
** _Hope is a Thing with Feathers_ , Emily Dickinson

A/N I'm publishing this as a stand-alone story because I want to leave the door open for more stories about JoRilla.


	2. Chapter 2

**Keep me in Your Heart for a While**

 _Sorry this is so bleak, but I have been wondering how John fared after Marilla died._

It was a very quiet John Blythe who made the train journey to Ingleside with Gilbert shortly after Marilla's funeral. Gilbert made a few attempts to draw his father into conversation, but all he received were monosyllabic responses. Eventually they just sat beside each other, sharing their grief silently. Gilbert hoping that his presence alone was helping.

The train pulled into the station, Gilbert gathered their bags and they both alighted. Anne was there to meet them. Shirley had asked to accompany her to the station, but she declined, not knowing the state John would be in when he arrived. She drew John in for a hug, privately dismayed at how he old he looked. "Come now John, we'll just get you into the carriage." John dutifully climbed in and sat down. Anne sat beside him and patted his hand. "We'll look after you John, you'll be all right with us." Tears fell down his cheeks as he audibly sobbed.

As the carriage pulled into the driveway, John pulled himself together for the sake of the children, dabbing at his eyes and blowing his nose. Anne and Gilbert had warned them that their normally effusive grandfather would most likely be subdued and that they had to be very gentle with him. They hoped that their presence might lift him out of his depression.

Shirley threw himself into his grandfather's arms, John staggered slightly with the force. "Shirley be careful of your grandfather love." Anne rebuked him, as she steadied John with one arm.

"No, it's all right. It's all right Shirley, I'm pleased to see you too." John hugged the little boy back, as Shirley clung to his chest, his legs wrapped around John's hips.

"Let's get you settled John. Then we can have some afternoon tea." Anne led him into his room, the one he used to share with Marilla. "I'll just give you a minute." Anne backed out to give him some space.

She walked into Gilbert's study and gave him a hug. "How is he?"

"About how you'd expect. Terribly desolate and despondent. He loved her so much, and his life feels empty without her."

"Do you think it will help being here?" Anne asked.

"I'm hoping the children will bring him back to life again. It will take time though." Anne nodded and kissed him.

* * *

John stood in their, no his, room. He didn't think he could stand it. Her echoes were here nearly as much as they were at home in Green Gables. He kept seeing her out of the corner of his eye, right at the edge of his peripheral vision, and he'd turn to say something to her but she wouldn't be there.

Somehow the pain of losing Marilla was worse than it had been when Caroline died. Did that mean he loved her more? He didn't know. Maybe it was just that they'd had so little time together, whereas he'd enjoyed a long marriage with Caroline.

There was a gentle knock, when he turned around it was Nan peeking around the corner of the door. "Grandpa, I've bought you some flowers for your room. I hoped they might make you a bit happier? Also, Mother says it's time for afternoon tea."

"Thank you darling, they're beautiful." Truth be told John didn't think he could bear their beauty right now. He was too despondent for flowers, but he received them politely. He stood there with the flowers in his hand not sure what to do next. Nan too was uncertain, she giggled nervously. "Shall I put them in water?"

John roused himself, "Yes, that's best. I'll collect them from the kitchen after tea. Please tell your mother I'm not very hungry right now." He really didn't think he could bear their youthful exuberance right now, he needed to wrap himself up in a quilt and cry himself to sleep.

Without taking his shoes off, he fell onto the bed and did just that. These days he was exhausted, but more than that he found a quilt comforting, as though she was hugging him from beyond the grave. That was the worst thing about coming here to live with Gilbert and Anne, he was too far from her grave. Last week he had spent hours there, in the cold November weather, sitting, lying next to her on the damp ground. Not really thinking of much, just needing the proximity. The bleak November weather was perfect for his mood. A bright summer's day would have been wrong. The looming clouds and mist felt just right.

Eventually, too cold and stiff to stay, he'd drag himself home. Home huh, that was a joke. Home was her and she had left him. Anyway, he went back to the house for a desultory dinner and bed. Even the bed was cold now that he had lost her. He had taken her warm presence in his bed for granted. He hadn't taken _her_ for granted, he adored having her there, but he'd forgotten how cold it was alone in bed. Now he was too far from her. Maybe he'd get used to that. Right now, it was torturous thinking of her lying in her deep dark cold grave, all alone.

He fell into a fitful sleep. When he woke up he was confused, the light was coming in the window from the wrong direction. He lay there for a moment wondering where she was. Then it all came flooding back as it did whenever he awoke. He'd forget in his sleep that she was gone. The light was awry because he was with the family at Ingleside, not at Green Gables. He was here to stay because she had died. They didn't think he could look after himself; they were probably right.

He could hear them downstairs, he supposed he had better brave them or they'd be sending someone up to fetch him soon. He got up, splashed a bit of water in his face and made his way downstairs.

Anne greeted him gently as he appeared in the doorway. "Did you have a nice sleep? Come and sit down here, John. Would you like a cup of tea?" He nodded. She turned to Jem who was standing nearby "Darling can you ask Susan to bring Grandpa a cup of tea?" Jem disappeared, he was dismayed to see how old his grandfather looked. He knew of course that his Grandpa was very sad that Aunt Marilla had died, Jem was too.

Jem and Marilla had always shared a special bond. He always felt he could confide in her, she was wise and gentle. They shared a sense of humour. He often wrote to her to tell her about his concerns and her advice was always perfect, but more than that she was his friend. He was going to miss her terribly, so it gave him an insight into how his Grandpa was feeling.

He returned with a cup of tea and a piece of cake on a tray which he placed on a table nearby. John took up his teacup and had a sip and held it in his hands as if unsure what to do with it next. "Are you having that cake, Grandpa?" Walter enquired. John glanced down at it.

"No, you have your own, Walter, leave that piece to Grandpa, he'll eat it when he's ready." John didn't really want the cake; his appetite had left him along with his wife. But seeing it there looking at him balefully made him pick it up and nibble at the corner. He felt ill but washed it down with another slurp of tea.

"Um, so, John, is there anything you'd like to do?" Anne was finding it hard going. John was a despondent presence in the room. "I have to go and attend to some letters for a while. Can I get you…?" John just shook his head. "Maybe the children could take you out for a walk?"

"I think I'll just go back to bed, if that's all right?"

"Of course, you don't have to ask, this is your home now." A tear snuck out of his eye at that and traced down his cheek. Anne and the children watched as he slowly shuffled out of room and listened as he walked up the stairs. The children looked at Anne, "Will Grandpa be all right?"

"I don't know, darlings. He is very miserable. You know he loved Aunt Marilla so very much. It's a big adjustment for him."

Back up in his room, his suitcases lying unopened on the floor, he sat on the bed. He could hear her voice in his head saying _John, you need to move on, go for that walk with the children. Go on_.

 _I can't, I can't Marilla. I just can't. I need you. I want you back. I can't_. He had her precious amethyst brooch in his suitcase. He took it out and lay down stroking it and fell back to sleep with it clutched in his hands.

Dinner time came, Gilbert knocked on his father's door, but there was no answer. He peeked in and saw him lying on the bed, curled up, fast asleep.

Anne looked up as Gilbert entered the dining room. He shook his head.

* * *

The next morning when John did not appear at the breakfast table, Anne asked Susan to prepare a breakfast tray. She knocked on his door and walked in when he didn't answer. The room had a sour smell and was gloomy with the curtains closed. Setting the tray down on the bed, Anne opened the curtains and cracked the window open too. "C'mon now John, it's time to get moving. I don't think Marilla would be all that happy with you right now." John opened one eye to look at her balefully.

"Go away."

"No, I won't go away. I want you to eat your breakfast, get dressed and come out with the children."

"No."

"Then I'll sit here with you and we'll watch your tea get cold. I am not letting you waste away in my house John Blythe. What will the neighbours say?"

The barest of smiles crossed John's face. "Damn the neighbours."

"That's more like it. C'mon here's your tea."

* * *

John found himself walking along the path to Rainbow Valley with the children. He'd walked that way with her on several occasions. Once to tell them all about the Big Apple in America even once to go sledging with the children on a happy long-ago day. Shirley had hold of one hand and Di the other. The rest of the children were skipping along, jumping small hazards and generally having a lovely time. They were of course, terribly sad about their Aunt Marilla, but they were children, they moved on. John for the most part was silent, lost in his thoughts. "Grandpa, shall we come sledding here again in winter?"

"Eh?"

"I asked if we could come back here in winter? I loved that day we came the other year." Shirley squeezed his hand.

John thought back to that magical day. He'd asked her to go sledding and despite her age, she'd been up for it. He remembered her red cheeks, burnt by the cold wind and her breathless laugh after the horse bought her back up the hill. She went down and up countless times. He looked down at Shirley, his eyes looking questioningly up at him, he'd forgotten where he was "Um, yes, I suppose we could." It wouldn't be the same though, she wouldn't be there with her lovely bright blue eyes twinkling at him. Di let go his hand and went skipping down the hill, but Shirley stayed, holding his hand and slowly walking along beside him.

The Merediths turned up shortly afterwards and the children reintroduced them to John. After a while though, John told them he would make his own way home. Shirley was happy to accompany him, ignoring John's exhortations to have him stay in the valley.

Anne was not surprised to see them back before the others. She was happy that John had gone out but did not expect him to stay all day. It was an improvement just to have him go for a walk. Shirley left him there and went to find Susan.

"Would you like some coffee, John?"

"Yes, that would be lovely, thank you Anne."

He sat down on the couch in the parlour. His thoughts drifted away to a time before when they were first courting. He had interrupted her baking and found her in the kitchen with a smudge of flour on her cheek. They had gone for a walk, but had gotten caught in a sudden rainburst, they'd run laughing through the rain back to the Green Gables veranda and had gobbled up the biscuits she'd been baking when he interrupted her. He smiled as he thought of her then, her youthful exuberance, her beautiful eyes and hair.

He recalled her reaction when he proposed. He hadn't expected the normally practical Marilla to faint, he could still picture her crumpled on the floor. She'd been quite embarrassed when she revived. Although he wasn't sure if that was because he'd seen her underwear or because she'd fainted. That had been the happiest day in a long time. Though it was soon superseded when they said their vows.

Their wedding was the most glorious day of his life, even better, truth be told than the day he married Caroline. He almost fainted with pleasure himself when he watched her descend the stairs. He did not think he had ever seen her looking so beautiful. His Marilla usually looked regal in plain clothes, but as she told him later, Anne and Gilbert had bought her the most stylish wedding dress. The blue material matched her eyes and the embroidered skirt sprung out from her tight waist. She was an ethereal vision of loveliness and he watched, mesmerised as she made her way towards him...

"You were far away then" Anne remarked, and he came to with a start.

"What? Oh yes. I was just remembering our wedding day."

"That was a happy day."

He looked at her with tears in his eyes, "One of the happiest ever."

"Only one of?"

"All the days I was married to her were the happiest ever."

"Oh, John." She clasped his hand and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek.

John looked at her briefly, tears falling down his lined cheeks. Anne pulled him to her for a hug and he wept on her shoulder "I ... just ... miss ... her ... so ... much." He sobbed. "I ... don't ... know ... if ... I … can ... go … on ... without ... her... I'm … so … lonely" John knew she was the one person who really shared his grief, perhaps the one person whose shoulder he could safely cry on. Anne rubbed his back, tears springing to her eyes at his distress.

She, of course, was grief stricken at losing mother, the woman who had saved her, had cared for her, whom she had shared many wonderful times with. But it was different for her, she had Gilbert and her beautiful children to comfort her. It was in the order of things, that your mother would predecease you. John did not have this comfort, did not even have the knowledge that they had enjoyed many glorious years of marriage.

Gilbert came in having heard his father's sobs. He couldn't recall the last time he'd heard his father crying, did he even weep this much when Gilbert's mother had died? He knelt down to hug John, offering his support. "We know it's hard Dad. We'll be with you. We'll look after you." The three of them sat sobbing in the parlour acutely aware of the absence of the one they collectively loved.

"We have to look out for each other and for the children." Anne remarked tearfully.

John nodded through his tears. "Thank you for taking me in. I miss her, she's so far away from me, but I know I wouldn't have lasted long there on my own. I hope you can put up with me, I'm not going to be much fun to be around." Gilbert reached up to hug him.

"Of course Dad, you're welcome to stay with us forever."


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks to_ _ **Excel Aunt**_ _for her comment about John and Gilbert, she inspired one of these conversations._

 **Sins of the Father**

 _Dear Jem_

 _Thank you for your last letter, it was very lovely to hear from you, as always. You write a good letter Jem, I always enjoy receiving them._

 _You said that you had quarrelled with David Wright. While I can see your point of view on the matter, I do not think it wise to bear grudges for too long. Nurse your hurt for a little while, if you must Jem dear, but after that do make sure to apologise. Yes, say sorry, even if David was in the wrong. He obviously felt slighted or he wouldn't have reacted so in the first place. If you don't apologise the anger will grow, there will be no resolution. Be the bigger man Jem. Surprise David, you may even end up with a new good friend out of it. And if you don't you will have the knowledge that you have behaved like a gentleman._

 _Well that turned into something longer than I expected, obviously you struck a nerve there._

 _Be good my darling,_

 _All my love, affection and best wishes,_

 _Your,_

 _Aunt Marilla_

Jem read through this letter, tears in his eyes. She had always been there with her sage, non-judgemental advice. It hit him then, he'd never receive another letter from her. He gently folded the missive up and stuck it in his pocket. Jem thought his Grandpa might be comforted by it, or perhaps not. Maybe he would ask Dad first.

Gilbert looked up in surprise from his desk as he heard a knock and then saw Jen's face in the doorway. The children were under strict instructions never to disturb him in his study. "Dad I know I'm not supposed to be here, but I need some advice. I don't want to run the risk of upsetting Mum." A worried Gilbert nodded his assent at this statement and Jem walked in.

"It's just, you know Aunt Marilla and I corresponded often. I found a letter she sent me last year and I…"

"Let me see it." Jem pulled it out of his pocket, unfolded it, smoothed it and handed it over.

Gilbert swiftly scanned the letter. "What were you planning?"

"I um ... I thought it might comfort Grandpa." He finished in a rush.

Gilbert looked at his oldest son, wondering how he got to be so wise at his age? "I think that's a lovely idea son. I think he'd like that very much."

Jem found his grandpa sitting on the couch in the parlour, the fire was crackling merrily, casting wild shadows on the walls. He looked like he was miles away, as he often was; lost in dreams of happier times. Jem didn't want to startle him but when John didn't respond when he called his name, Jem sat down beside him instead. John jumped a little as he felt the shift in the cushions, noticing Jem for the first time. "Good morning Jem" he always tried to make an effort for the children, She would have approved.

"Grandpa, I have something here I thought you might like to read." Jem handed over the letter and John took it with tremulous hands. He saw her familiar handwriting, though he had received few letters from her himself; either they had been together or estranged, nothing in between.

Taking a deep breathe he read the letter, tears snaking down his cheeks. She had more than her fair share of familiarity with the nature of forgiveness. He read it through a couple of times as Jem sat silently by his side. The phrase _I do not think it wise to bear grudges for too long_ resonated. How long did the two of them do just that? He turned to Jem, holding out the letter and hoarsely whispered "Thank you." Jem kissed him and stole quietly out of the room, sensing that John needed to be alone.

* * *

John knocked on Gilbert's door the next morning. He heard his son say "Enter" and walked in. "Dad? Is everything all right?"

"I feel we need to talk son. You're upset with me."

"No, no, I know you're grieving."

"You think I'm more upset about Marilla's death than I was about your mother's." Gilbert was silent, his father was right.

"Gilbert, do you know our story?"

"I know bits."

"Yes, that's what I thought." John settled back in the chair, getting comfortable. This would take a while. "Many years ago, when I was young and stupid, I met a beautiful young woman, she was my neighbour." Gilbert nodded, he knew this bit.

"We knew each other at school and later I asked her to court. You know Marilla was a different woman then, carefree and lovely. We had lots of fun, we went for walks, we went to dances, not unlike you and Anne when you were courting, probably. Then one day I said something stupid, she was furious with me. We parted angrily and the next week I went back to apologise and ended up making a bad situation worse."

"Why?" Gilbert was confused.

"Why? Because I was a fool, a young stubborn fool. We parted then, and I left her for good. Eventually I met your mother, we courted and married. But in the back of my mind I always felt guilty about the way I treated Marilla. It didn't help that she never married. I was conscious that she was living a quiet life with her parents and her brother over at Green Gables; while I was happily married and enjoying myself. Marilla told me herself how difficult those years were for her. In fact, it was worse after we were married when she knew what your mother and I were up to, because she and I were enjoying it ourselves."

"Dad!"

"Oh, for goodness sake Gilbert, stop being such a prude. Yes, we enjoyed sex. There I said it. She was a passionate lover." John smiled at the memories. "Gilbert, I was very much in love with your mother, never doubt that. We had a long and happy marriage. I was devastated when she died so suddenly. I think the reason I'm so much more upset now is that Marilla and I didn't enjoy a long marriage. It was happy, oh so happy, but not nearly long enough. I feel guilty about the long years of estrangement and I wish we'd had longer together, do you understand?"

Gilbert nodded, tears in his eyes. "I was thinking you didn't love Mum as much as Marilla, but it all makes sense now."

The two men sat in silence looking at each other across the desk. The morning sun was rising. Gilbert broke the silence. "I know it's early, but I could really do with a drink after all that."

John laughed "Yes please, brandy?"

* * *

Mrs Rachel Lynde was sad. There were no two ways about it. She missed her oldest friend; her sarcastic put downs, her quick wit, her kind heart. Rachel was gregarious it was true, but there was no one in her life like dear Marilla. She was never one for platitudes, if she didn't like something she told you so, straight to your face. If she did like it, she was honest about that too. And it meant something, because you knew she'd never flatter you for the sake of it. There were all too few people like Marilla in this world.

Marilla's illness felled her all too quickly, that's what. Without her dear neighbours nearby Rachel didn't feel comfortable living in Avonlea anymore. She moved in with her daughter at White Sands. It was near home, but not home.

It was odd living there. She felt she had lost control of her life. Her meal times were ordered by her daughter, she was not allowed to cook. Even what they ate was different. Her son in law was a good man she guessed, but she had never warmed to him and living in close quarters wasn't helping. Rachel read the newspapers and tried to keep out of the way, sensing that she irritated them all. She was relieved when she received a letter from Anne Blythe one day:

 _Dear Mrs Lynde_

 _I do hope this letter finds you well..._


	4. Chapter 4

**Broken Hearted**

John was sitting in the library looking at a book of poetry, tears running down his cheeks. Anne walked by and heard his sob, "John, what is it?" Wordlessly he looked up and proffered the book. Anne took it up and read the tear-distorted words.

 _And yet, no wild regret I give  
To all that now I leave,  
The golden dreams, the flow'ry wreaths  
That I no more may weave;  
The future that before me lies  
A dark and unknown sea -  
Whate'er may be its storms or shoals,  
I brave them all with thee!_

and glanced to the last stanza

 _And thou, wilt thou not promise me  
Thy heart will never change,  
That tones and looks, so loving now,  
Will ne'er grow stern and strange?  
That thou'lt be kind, whatever faults  
Or failings may be mine,  
And bear with them in patient love,  
As I will bear with thine?* _

She looked askance, it was familiar and yet?

"She read it on our wedding day." He explained.

Of course, it all came rushing back. Marilla standing at the table in that beautiful blue dress reciting a love poem to her husband. Something Anne would never have expected.

"Of course, I'm sorry, I do remember. Recall that magnificent dress, didn't she look beautiful?" John just nodded. "We insisted on buying it for her. I wanted her to have a really stunning dress to get married in. I remember I liked a dress, but she burst into tears. She said she'd worn a pink dress to a dance with you and had never worn pink since. I was pretty set on pink when I was young, though with my red hair it was denied me. I asked her that day if it caused her pain to have me talk about it all the time. She admitted that it did sometimes. Still, the blue dress was divine wasn't it? I don't think she missed out on anything not being in pink."

"The blue set off her eyes." John replied huskily.

"Yes, it did, didn't it."

Jem and Walter rushed by but stopped when they saw their mother and grandfather talking in the library. "We're just remembering Aunt Marilla and Grandpa's wedding day, boys. Do you remember it or were you too young?

"I remember Mother. Walt and I gave Aunt Marilla a gift from that poem something borrowed, something blue, remember?"

"Oh yes, I do. You were so sweet boys. You had a feather Jem and Walter you lent her your favourite marble. Did she give it back?"

Walter nodded, and burst into tears, stumbling over to Anne for a comforting hug. "There, there, it's all right to cry. It's sad that she's no longer with us. We all loved her so. She was a wonderful Grandmother."

* * *

 _Dear Mrs Lynde_

 _I do hope this letter finds you well._

 _We are all well, the children are thriving and growing so fast._

 _Several paragraphs omitted_

 _As you know John is living with us now and I think he is lonely. I was wondering if you would like to come and visit with us for a few days. I completely understand if this is not possible, but I think he would like some company, someone of his own vintage who can commiserate with him…_

Rachel packed her bag and was on the next train.

She was delighted to see Ingleside for the first time. Marilla had told her all about its many charms, but she had never visited before. She thought the trees on the lawn looked very fine, but imagined the leaves must have annoyed the ever-neat Marilla in fall. The flowers were delightful, it looked like just the sort of house a romantic like Anne would love.

John and Anne came out to meet her as the carriage rolled into the driveway. They greeted her warmly as John helped her onto the gravel and Gilbert collected her bags. "We're going to put you in the back-bedroom Rachel, it's a dear little room, we hope you like it. Anne stopped in doorway of the room for a moment and put her hand on Rachel's arm, "Thank you for telling me to fetch John."

"I'm so pleased he came, he wasn't coping at Green Gables, I think he spent almost all his days by her graveside, it was too cold. How is he now?"

"He's very sad. He's not coping all that well here either, but at least we can provide food and a warm bed. How are you faring Rachel?"

"I miss my oldest, dearest friend."

"Of course." Anne kissed Rachel's lined cheek and gave her a hug. The death of someone as pivotal as Marilla was bound to rock all her friends and family she supposed. It was one thing to know it, but yet another thing to experience it.

* * *

Rachel and John were strolling around the garden the next afternoon. "How are you really John?"

"I'm all right I suppose, at first if I closed my eyes all I could see was her lying there, afterwards. Emaciated and cold. The image replayed in my mind and I couldn't see beyond it."

"Yes, I was the same when Thomas died. The last ghastly image is the closest. It's awful, you can't see past that to the real person."

John nodded, "Yes, exactly. But now, I'm able to see her at her finest. On our wedding day, or at the breakfast table, before she put her hair up for the day, or last thing at night. I think one of my favourite memories of her was the time I played Santa for the children and with a little twinkle in her eye she admitted she had been a little bit naughty."

Rachel stopped still at that, Marilla had been mischievous? Well of course she had, at least Rachel hoped she had. John looked back at her questioningly "Sorry, you caught me by surprise there. I don't think of Marilla as being wicked, but she did have a sweet twinkle in her eye that made you think she could be.

She was always so resilient. Remember when you broke your leg John?"

"Oh yes", John winced at the memory. "That was a bad accident. Davy pretty much saved my life that day. I would have died of shock out there in that puddle if he hadn't carried me inside."

"Yes, but afterwards we had to really nag Marilla to hire a nurse to look after you. She thought she could do it all alone. It took the combined efforts of the doctor, myself and Anne to persuade her."

"Goodness! There was no way she could have managed. We needed Grace to help me with everything."

"Yes, but Marilla was quite stubborn about it. She had such a strong independent streak, didn't she? Probably came from being alone for such a long time, she never liked to rely on anyone."

"Oh yes, she was independent all right, she just hated being ill, having to rely on us to do things for her. She knew her own mind. Of course, that's what I loved about her." Rachel took his hand and squeezed it. "She sure didn't like it when we discussed politics."

"Oh, you really made a mess of that." Rachel thought back to their quarrel which she had witnessed, one of their few, as best she knew.

"Yes", John grimaced, "that was the last time I told her, her opinion didn't matter."

"How did she retaliate?"

"Well let's just say it was pretty cold in the bed that night."

"Oh yes, she had her ways."

"I think the angriest I ever saw her was when Mary Maria criticised the grandchildren."

"Oh yes, I recall.

"Marilla threw her out of the house, called her a harridan."

"That woman would try the patience of a saint."

"Yes" John commented "Saint Marilla certainly couldn't stand her."

"That's rather blasphemous John. I adored Marilla, but even she would never call herself a saint, nor would she want to be.

What about those ridiculous champagne glasses she brought me back from New York City?" She minded, changing tack. John sniggered. Then immediately burst into tears.

"John dear, what is it, what's the matter?"

"I … haven't … laughed … since, … since..." He sobbed.

"I know John, I know it feels like a betrayal doesn't it? It's not though. She wouldn't want you to never enjoy yourself again, she'd want you to live."

"I know she does, she told me so just before she died. It was maybe our last conversation, after that she was too weak to talk."

"What did she say?"

John thought back to her lying in the bed, the weak November sun streaming through the window, motes of dust floating in the ray of sunlight. The sour smell of the sick room permeating his nostrils. She lay weakly on her pillows, her beautiful grey hair tied into a braid lay across her shoulder. They were wiping her lips with a damp cloth to prevent them from drying out. Her skin was drawn taut over her cheek bones, giving her the look of a skeleton already, except for her eyes. Her bright blue eyes still gazed out of her emaciated face, if anything they seemed bigger as her eye sockets had widened as her skin stretched. Her eyes still had the power to arrest him with their fierce gaze.

He'd turned her over onto her right side, she was too weak to manage it herself. Grace and he were switching her around every couple of hours to prevent bedsores, a pillow between her legs so that her ankles and knees didn't rub against each other in a painful manner. She was just skin and bones by then, with nothing to cushion her joints.

She told him in a halting manner, with long pauses as she summoned her strength, that she expected him to continue to live his life without her. Her eyes piercing his to accentuate her meaning

"She just said I had to keep on going. But it's so difficult Rachel. I'm not sure I can, I'm not sure I want to anymore. I just want to be with her."

There were tears in Rachel's eyes as she hugged him. Poor man, he was really suffering. He took her arm and they slowly walked back to the house.

Rachel left a couple of days later. She and John promised to keep in touch. They'd known each other for such a long time and each in their own way loved Marilla. Anne hoped they could provide comfort.

* * *

John's moods waxed and waned. Some days he would rouse himself and be almost lively, but on others he would sink into a gloom. Even Shirley couldn't get a smile from him on those days. He'd just lie in his bed asleep or staring into the middle distance. He forgot to shave, his grey stubble a stark reminder of how poorly he was faring. As time passed the bad days far outweighed the good. He was spending increasing amounts of time in bed, as if unable to face a world without her in it.

"I'm really worried about him, Gil." Anne confided one day. "Is it really possible to die from a broken heart?"

Looking at his father, Gilbert could well believe it. "I think it might be in his case." He replied to Anne sadly. "I hate to see him go, but he's utterly miserable."

"I feel he's fading before our eyes." Anne remarked dejectedly.

Anne took a bowl of soup up, John had stopped coming down for meals. Partly because he hadn't the strength physically, but mostly because the family were too much to bear. All that youthful exuberance was overwhelming. Christmas was particularly awful. Their wild excitement hard to bear. He remembered a Christmas prior when they had been there together. He put his hands over his eyes and sobbed. It was unbearable.

Anne plumped up his pillows and helped him to sit up. "Now I'm the patient it would seem." John mumbled.

"Never mind, darling. We want you to recover, to join us out in world again."

"No, I can't. I can't face a world without her. Honestly" he looked Anne straight in the eyes, "I just want to die. I want to be reunited with her."

"I don't think she'd be very happy hearing you say that."

"I don't care, I can put up with her anger, I can't put up with her absence."

He stopped eating after that and drinking the next day. Gilbert said it would be soon, the body can cope without food for a few weeks, but only days without water.

* * *

 _Dear Mrs Lynde_

 _It is my very sad duty to inform you that John passed away yesterday. As you can imagine we are all heart broken…_

Rachel folded up the letter and shed a tear. It was the end of an era and of a beautiful love story.

* The End *

* * *

*Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon, _To My Husband on our Wedding Day_

 _A/N_ Some of these stories are recounted in my other stories _Love Does not Flourish at Speed_ and _Memories are Made of This._

Well this is the end of a sad story. Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed. I know that wasn't the nicest passing for either of them, but it felt true. Come back if you ever need a weep, a good cry can be cathartic.


	5. Chapter 5

_I've been writing this on and off for a few months, but I've been unable to think where to put it. If I wait til I get to that point in the diary, then that's that story over and done with. Instead, I'm putting it here, so that the diary can continue, but you know what the end point will be. Well I suppose if you've read the previous chapters, you know anyway. I just wanted to describe the situation from Marilla's point of view._

* * *

20 August 1908

I feel, I don't know, I feel not quite right. I can't say why, it's just a heaviness around my stomach. I'm losing weight too, probably because I'm not particularly hungry. I should say something to John, but I hope that if I don't voice it, it will just go away. If I do say something, he'll just worry needlessly, whisk me off to the doctor. I can't stand all that fuss. No, I'll just pretend nothing's the matter. Though I admit I find myself losing energy and cooking no longer holds its allure.

* * *

27 August 1908

There was blood in my water this morning. I whisked the contents of the pot down the privy before John could see. He'd only worry, I'm sure it's nothing.

It's been another lovely summer's day. John and I went for a walk down to the pond, Anne would chastise me for my lack of imagination, 'mind it's the Lake of Shining Waters, Marilla' I can just hear her now. In any case, whatever it's called, it did look lovely on this warm day. John encouraged me to take my shoes and stockings off and have a paddle. I told him we could do that at the beach sometime, but I wasn't keen on walking through cold mud. In any case even without the sensation of cold water on my bare toes, which in hindsight does sound delicious, we did have a nice stroll, hand in hand. Chatting about this and that.

* * *

30 August 1908

John packed a picnic and declared that he did want me to experience the joy of a paddle on a hot day, so it was off to the beach for us.

I admit, it is lovely. I made a bit of a fuss, but more for appearances sake than anything. John, as per usual, ignored my protestations and now we are sitting upon a blanket on the sand. The delicious feeling of the red sand under my feet is wonderful. We went for a walk and a paddle and now John is laying with his head on my lap snoozing as I jot down the moment.

There are seagulls calling overhead, the clouds are making interesting shapes above us. We just played the game where you look for shapes in them. He made me lie on my back and we both pointed out the shapes to each other. A duck morphed into a giant morphed into a snowman etc, etc. It was as if we were children again. I haven't played that game since I was young.

There is an intriguing smell of the beach, of seaweed, seawater, sand. Over on the horizon I can see the odd fluffy cloud dipping down to the water. It really is a perfect warm afternoon. One I am sure I will remember for a long time. He is so lovely to think of these treats, we have a lot of fun, my darling husband and me.

* * *

5 September 1908

He noticed. John noticed that I wasn't eating and that I've lost weight. Now he's all concerned and clucking that I don't take care of myself. He's going to nag at me now, I can just feel it. What a bother, I'm sure it's nothing much.

He intends to take me to the doctor in the morning.

* * *

6 September 1908

I'm angry, that's right, that's the word, Angry. I feel I've just found my happy place and it's all going to be ripped away. I know God in His infinite wisdom knows best and its sinful for me to question Him. But why oh, why does He test me so? We have had such a scant number of years together and now it's all going to come to a nasty close.

I'm sad. I hate to leave my beloved. We have been so very happy together. We have such fun and it's going to end, all too soon. I hate to leave him alone. He's lost one wife already, I don't know if he can bear to lose me as well. Is that conceited of me to say? Well if I can be sure of anything in this life, it is his love for me.

I'm frightened. I don't want to die. I'm not ready. John says he will be with me every step of the way, but in truth that's not possible. This is a fight I have to manage on my own. He will be there, yes, but I will be essentially alone. I don't know if I am strong enough.

Dr Taylor examined me this morning and pronounced that he thinks I have cancer a growth in my stomach and that it will kill me. There is nothing he can do about it, though he can provide relief when the pain gets too severe.

Of course, it's John and Anne who I will have to leave behind that I feel for the most. Particularly John. He is ever my love, my always. I just can't bear to leave him, it hurts so.

* * *

7 September 1908

Ringing Anne with the news was the hardest thing I have even done. And in fact, words failed me, John had to break the news to her, I could not. She is coming to me, coming to her old mother on the next train. I will be pleased to have her by my side. I know she has her own life over at Glen St Mary, but I miss her dreadfully. She could be a consolation for John and me.

* * *

8 September 1908

It was wonderful to see my darling Anne again. She is such a comfort. She ran in from the station and collapsed into my arms and we sobbed together. I admit it is a terrible shock. It's just so final. I … no I don't have the words for what it is.

* * *

9 September 1908

Anne accompanied me to Rachel's to break the news. Again, my words failed. Rachel recovered remarkably well after Anne had told her, and had plans for all the things we might do. I told her, that in reality all I wanted to do was spend my days at home, drinking in the last memories of my beloved Green Gables.

I had to break the news to Davy and Dora too. Davy for once in his life was speechless. Dora's eyes filled with tears and we hugged. I know Anne and John will look after them both ... after.

* * *

10 September 1908

The minister came and tried to set my mind at ease. We prayed together. He said God understands my thoughts and that all will be well. I pray that I can come to terms with my situation, but I fear I am not there yet.

The Boulters brought over a stew. I'm not remotely interested in food at present, but of course Anne and John still need to eat. I assume Rachel sent word out to the township. That's one benefit of being friends with the town gossip. Mrs Boulter told Anne there was no need to cook, Avonlea would take care of it. Our darling neighbours, I suppose I have helped out in similar situations, it's what you do isn't it. It's strange to be on the receiving end.

* * *

12 September 1908

Doctor Taylor paid a call to see how I am getting on. He advised we get my affairs in order as I do not have much time left and that I will shortly feel quite unwell. It is a death sentence to be sure and I do not know what else I can say.

* * *

22 September 1908

They brought me over to Ingleside for a last visit. It is so lovely to see the children. My gorgeous ones are growing so quickly. I have so little energy to enjoy their company. I spend a great deal of time just sleeping. I hate to miss out but I fear I am just so exhausted these days.

* * *

1 October 1908

I was tired after lunch and told Anne I was just going up for a nap. I had just loosened my stays and laid on the bed to close my eyes when I heard a small knock on the door. It was Nan. She wanted to join me. My darling granddaughter, named after my darling daughter, what a sweet gesture. I fear I wasn't much company for her as I drifted off to the sounds of her story, something about knights and fair maidens. Just the sort of story her mother would have told years ago. In fact, for a moment I wasn't sure who was talking.

When Anne found us both asleep, she chastised Nan for disturbing me, but I loved having such a delightful sleep buddy. She is welcome to join me anytime.

Refreshed after my sleep, I made my way to the parlour for afternoon tea with the family. I find them exhausting. I can only cope for short periods. I'm not particularly good company at present.

I love to watch Shirley with John. They share such a bond. Shirley is quite different to the rest of the family. Perhaps it stems from his perilous first days. While the others are playing in their Rainbow Valley with the Meredith children Shirley is most often to be found in the kitchen with Susan.

* * *

3 October 1908

I have requested John to take me home. I want to die at my beloved Green Gables and I fear if we tarry too long here I will be too weak to travel. Even now the thought exhausts me.

* * *

4 October 1908

I had hoped to enjoy my homecoming, to see all the old haunts one more time, Anne's Lake of Shining Waters and The White Way of Delight, though it's the wrong time of year for that; but the train journey exhausted me, and I fear I fell asleep in the carriage and missed it all.

* * *

5 October 1908

Rachel paid a visit this afternoon. She comes to me these days, not that she didn't in the past, but the traffic went both ways. I fear I'll never see the inside of her kitchen again; we had such happy times there together.

Rachel as usual was full of gossip. I never had the hankering for all it is her lifeblood. I'd listen yes, and comment, but I suppose I was seldom much use to her in that department, at least for the long years after John and I went our separate ways, and before Anne's arrival.

Anyway, today she prattled away about Mrs Harmon and the rest of our neighbours, I'm less interested in their doings than ever. Something about my impending death makes all their goings on pettier than ever and it's all I can do to muster a smile as she tells me about the latest salacious gossip.

After a while I closed my eyes against it, it amused me how long it took Rachel to notice, quite some five minutes or so I reckon, though I can't be sure.

* * *

8 October 1908

My darling John carries me out to the couch they've placed on the veranda, that I might enjoy the autumnal weather. The russet leaves and misty airs of fall have ever been my favourite.

We sit together and reminisce, or else they get on with the chores and I might read or write. It is frustrating not to be able to help. This morning there were some stray leaves on the lawn and I itched to rake them away. But I lack the strength to do so. My gallant John saw the problem and took care of them. He knows me so well. I thi

. . .

I just dropped off for a moment there. Some kind person must have seen me sleeping, for now I am tucked up with a blanket, my pen was in the ink well and my diary was sitting safely on the side table. They are caring for me so sweetly, it brings tears to my eyes.

We've been telling Anne about our history and our more recent exploits. I'm pleased to say this sick old girl still has the power to shock. Anne got quite embarrassed when we recounted the fun we had at the White Sands Hotel or in New York. John told her about the time he ended up in vaudeville. I can't remember all these events since I lost my memory, but John has filled me in on our exploits so often that I feel I can almost recall them anyway.

* * *

10 October 1908

Anne tells me Gilbert is bringing the children by in a couple of days. I love her babies. Although now that I think of them I fear I cannot recall all their names. I'm a bit muzzled today, a bit confused. There's my sweet Jem and another boy. Did she have twins? Yes, I think so. Then another boy perhaps, with a strange name I think? And bringing up the rear, a girl named after me. Though they call her something else. I'll just smile and call them all darling. I hope they don't notice. Maybe it will be easier when I see them.

. . .

I think I have their names straight now. I'll write them down, so I don't forget; Jem, Walter, Di, Nan, Shirley and Rilla, not forgetting wee baby Joyce who I hope I will be reunited with soon. Perhaps she is cradled in Matthew's arms. There's a comforting thought. Wouldn't Matthew be amazed to see what Anne has done since he left us.

The minister came to visit me again, as he does quite often. I do find his visits comforting. We pray together, the Bible verses are consoling. Am I coming to terms with my fate, well to be honest, not really, but it does seem inevitable now.

* * *

13 October 1908

It was lovely to see the children once again. In the way of very small children, young Rilla directly asked me if I was going to die. I could see the looks of horror on Anne and Gilbert's face, but she is quite right to ask. I reassured her that I was ready to die, and I hope to be reunited with Matthew and their big sister Joy.

I found their presence exhausting, so Anne led them away shortly after. Gilbert enquired as to my pain levels. I was able to lie to him that it wasn't too bad. I don't know that he believed me though. I'm worried that I'll be drugged up to the eyeballs. I don't want to miss out on life for the sake of a little pain. It is pretty uncomfortable now, I will admit. But there is so much still to enjoy. I do love to spend time with my loved ones.

* * *

18 October 1908

Gilbert took the children home today. It was terribly sad. I know we will never see each other again. They each hugged me very gently and whispered their farewells. Jem had a special kiss for me, and I caressed his hair. He has always been my favourite, it's probably a terrible thing to confess, but there it is. We've always had a special bond that red-headed boy and me.

John held my hand as Davy drove them away, they were all weeping as I was myself. It is a terrible thing to say goodbye.

* * *

19 October 1908

The pain is intensifying, it's a little worse every day. I'm trying to keep the worst of it from them, but I fear I will not be able to keep the pretense up for much longer. I shift about, but I'm unable to find a comfortable spot.

John is such a darling. He sits with me, he listens, he holds my hand. He does everything he can to help me. I find I am getting weaker day by day.

He reminded me of our day at the beach, a scant seven weeks ago before my diagnosis. What a happy day that was. He always found lovely things for us to do together. He stroked my cheek, brushing a stray hair off my face and kissed me tenderly. This man! What can I say? I am so very lucky to have him by my side.

* * *

21 October 1908

I had an interesting conversation with Anne this morning. She told me about a discussion she and Rachel had shared the other week. About the nature of our relationship when first she arrived at Green Gables. The question was who saved whom? Rachel contended that Anne saved me, while Anne thinks I saved her. I suppose it's true to say that her arrival was mutually beneficial. To think I ever thought we needed a boy. A Boy? We needed Anne, no question about it. I do feel guilty about the way I treated her at first, but it was a shock to see her red hair on my doorstep that long-ago afternoon. Matthew knew best, of course. He knew from the moment he set eyes upon her that she had to stay.

* * *

25 October 1908

As I lie here, a prisoner of my bed, I fancy I can hear Matthew's voice echoing around. What I can certainly hear is the ducks as they fly south in great flocks. I won't witness their return.

Anne brings in leaves and flowers to decorate my room since I can no longer make it outside. The pain, the pain it's getting unbearable now. I can't hide it from them for much longer.

My darling John spends hours by my side. Holding my hand, feeding me small sips of soup or water, reading to me, chatting. I feel so sorry for him, it is a dreadful thing to lose two wives. I do hope he will be all right when I am gone.

Rachel paid me a visit. I could see the shock in her eyes, though she tried to hide it. I'm sure I look a sight. There's no fat on my body; I'm just skin and bones. I haven't seen myself in the glass for weeks now, but it can't be a good look.

* * *

30 October 1908

I hate this.

.

I always prided myself on my independence.

.

Now I find myself completely reliant upon others.

.

Lacking the strength to walk, even to feed myself. Look at my writing, it's terrible. I used to have such neat handwriting, I was quite proud of it, now I can barely read it myself.

.

I can't even leave my room now. They're kind enough, nothing is too much trouble, even when I make a terrible mess as I did yesterday.

.

I'm pleased about the nurse. I feel embarrassed when they have to clean my soiled clothes, but Grace is used to patients in my situation.

.

It is terribly frustrating to be reduced to this.

.

The pain is intensifying, I don't know how much longer I can mask it. I don't want to be drugged up to the eyeballs, but the cancer is eating away at my insides and it is quite painful now.

* * *

N O V

/ / X X / / \ | / \ _

* * *

5 November 1908

You will notice another hand is writing this. Marilla is too weak to hold the pen now and is falteringly dictating her last words to me, her Anne. The entry above was her last attempt at writing, but as you can see she could not manage it. These are her words, that I lovingly write on her behalf:

 _John, what can I say about him that he does not already know? He is my light, my love, dare I say it for it is blasphemous as Rachel would say, my savior. . . He brought me out of a dark place when I was all alone, Matthew gone before, Anne away in the Glen all married and happy, Davy and Dora happily married. . . I was rattling around in Green Gables on my own and frankly, lonely. I had stopped yearning for him years past, so I was shocked when he crept into my life again._

 _(Long pause)_

 _To say that I was happy does not begin to touch on my feelings. I think I was giddy, after all that time to finally be wed to the man of my dreams. Rachel said it was providence, well providence took its own sweet way with me._

 _I hope that if anyone ever finds this diary and cares to read it they will forgive me. I have not been perfect. But I have tried._

* * *

8 November 1908

(I tried to make Marilla rest, talking exhausts her, but she insisted. She wants to make this statement, perhaps her last. I write it on her behalf, Anne Blythe.)

 ** _Epigraph_**

 _I failed to live up to my expectations as a young girl, but mine has been a fortunate life filled at last with people I love._

 _I pray that I will be reunited with my darling Matthew and wee Joyce and our parents, they did look after me so well when I was young. I am not afraid to die, life is miserable now. My poor old body is not managing. I do regret leaving my love behind. I hope he can find peace without me._

 _John, if you read this, please know that I love you. I love you. You have been my love, my life, my one, my only. I am sorry it took so long to be reunited. Once we were, we fit together so wonderfully. I put behind me the years we lost and lived in the moment._

 _Our love has been like a match flame, hot and bright but all too short._

 _One day I hope we will be reunited. Until then my darling, I will always love you, death cannot stop true love._

 _Marilla Blythe_


	6. Chapter 6 Epilogue 1

"Oh Gilbert, listen to this, Marilla played Mary in the 1834 Avonlea Christmas Pageant, and guess who played Joseph?"

"I'm guessing Dad did?"

"Little William Barry played the part of Jesus, and the donkey was untrustworthy."

"Golly, that's hilarious, I can't imagine William Barry as an infant."

Anne giggled along with him.

* * *

John had been dead three months before Anne and Gilbert had had the heart to sort through his and Marilla's things.

On one of her last days, Marilla had bequeathed her precious amethyst brooch to Anne, but she had left her diary to her husband. Anne recalled her frail mother asking her to fetch the jewellery case from the dresser over to her, and with tremulous fingers she opened the box and drew out the brooch wrapped in a piece of cloth. "This is yours now Anne." She whispered, as she proffered the precious piece. Anne looked into Marilla's bright blue eyes and down at the jewel with tears in her eyes.

"Really?"

Marilla smiled "Of course, who else? You wanted it so badly all those years ago, remember?"

Anne would never forget the feeling of entrapment she experienced in that moment, but all was long forgiven. She took the brooch from Marilla's shaking hand and pinned it to her breast. "Good, beautiful." Marilla whispered. "I did so want to see it on you before I die." Anne reached over to kiss Marilla's pale cheek and resettled her against the pillows. They sat together for a while, holding hands until Marilla dropped off to sleep. Anne sat with her watching for a while longer, thinking about her younger self. They had had a complicated start, but Marilla was the mother of her heart now.

John had died of a broken heart shortly after Marilla. Both Anne and Gilbert and their children mourned their passing and often talked about them over dinner. The family portrait photographed some years prior took pride of place on the parlour mantelpiece. Whenever Anne spied it, she thanked her lucky stars they had had it taken, it caught a beautiful family moment.

* * *

Now they were lying in bed together as Anne read passages of Marilla's diary out to Gilbert.

"How old was Marilla?"

"Ten. She received the diary for Christmas. Golly, she sounds a bit like young me. Listen 'shall I describe you to yourself?' And she resolves to be nicer to Rachel."

"Ha," Gilbert barked with laughter, "did she now? That was a friendship for the ages."

"That January she went sledding down the hill near The Lake of Shining Waters."

"I bet she didn't call it that, did she?"

"Well no, she just called it Barry's Pond, I wasn't around to rechristen it yet."

"And I suppose there was no one to give her a lift back up the hill."

"No indeed, no king of son-in-laws, like you, sweetheart." Anne gave him a little kiss on his cheek.

"She does say that her mother, whom I never met of course, brought them hot chocolate to warm them up. What a sweet gesture. Marilla never talked about her much. Oh gosh and the next day they had a massive snowball fight."

"Marilla!

"I know, it sounds like a fun childhood doesn't it."

"Rachel's parents took her to the New Year ceilidh, even then Matthew was too shy to go."

Anne skipped a few pages, "Oh look, here she's besotted with a certain John Blythe."

"Oh let me see?"

"She says his very name sends shivers down her spine. She longs to run her fingers through his curly locks."

"Marilla!"

"It gets better they kissed at the church dance."

"They kissed?"

"Yes many times, in fact" Anne skimmed the passage again, "Rachel is rather put out about it all, and then Marilla nearly fainted because she forgot to breathe."

"Dad continued to make her faint, didn't he." Gilbert grinned.

"It's the Blythe charm I suppose. Look she wants to kiss him all over, despite it not being particularly lady-like."

"I'm seeing Marilla in a new light."

Anne turned to him and said "I know, it's wonderful. Oh listen to this, 'Jane Pye sidled over to make some backhanded compliment about my dress.' Oh those Pyes. Josie made our lives a misery, seems her mother was no better."

"Hmm, I'm so pleased we're away from their poisonous influence."

"Now she's complaining about all the clothes she had to wear on hot summer days and how annoying her womanly time was. I know Marilla, I know. But she's happy because there are boys. Hah she's drowning in his deep brown eyes."

"Seems you two were kindred spirits after all."

"I know, that's just what I was thinking. Gosh they got the giggles playing footsies whilst listening to a concert. And now her mother is chastising her for being so forward with a boy."

"Ha. That's hilarious."

"Yes, but it's sad though, because we know it can't last."

"Oh, yes, that's true. All these happy moments are going to come to an end aren't they. Dad told me a bit about it after Marilla died."

"She says John helped her father out with the harvest and she enjoyed his muscly bare arms."

Gilbert just looked at her with eyes wide open.

"And she liked his smell, more than she liked Matthew's."

Gilbert's mouth opened in a wide O.

"Uh oh"

"What?"

"They quarrelled. John as good as told her she was ugly."

"Dad!"

"Oops, and a week later he made it worse, saying he didn't know what she saw in Rachel."

Gilbert groaned. "He told me he had been particularly stupid."

"And it's brought on her first migraine."

"Oh yes, I remember she suffered from those. I wonder if the break-up brought them on?"

"Sounds ghastly, listen 'It felt like my brain was being squeezed between two bricks.' She hoped John would visit, but it was Rachel who came instead. Now she's taking solace in poetry, the Bible didn't cut it."

"The Bible didn't console her? My goodness. Who did she read?"

"Caroline Norton, Michael Drayton and Tennyson. Hey, here she says she can't eat because she in the depths of despair." Anne smiled.

"That doesn't sound very funny."

"No it's just when I first arrived at Green Gables and was told they wanted a boy, I couldn't eat as a result, I told her I was in the depths of despair and she said she had never been there, now I find out she was lying. All these years later, it's just funny."

"It's sad though."

"Yes, but just think, we wouldn't be having this conversation if they had stayed together."

"I suppose so."

"Gosh poor Marilla, she had to be bridesmaid for Rachel and John was Thomas Lynde's best man.

"Like us for Diana and Fred."

"Yes, just like that. She fainted again and was ill for a few days. Matthew rescued her. Oh ick, Rachel came to tell her about her wedding night, in a bit too much detail." Anne looked across at Gilbert who was making retching noises, "shh I know. Rachel's acting all superior and annoying Marilla, and now she's pregnant."

"Baby number one."

"Rachel wanted to call her Marilla, but Marilla told her to choose Mary instead. I know she never liked her name."

"Very sensible."

Anne hit him gently, "Don't let Rilla hear you say that."

"At least it's her second name."

"Oh Marilla." Anne sounded sad

"Why what now?"

"She says she always wanted babies and seeing baby Mary Lynde makes her think she'll never get the chance."

Gilbert was silent for a moment as he thought that through. "And she never did."

"No." Anne flipped through a few more pages and found one with a long passage. Marilla had kept her entries brief and sporadic for a few years. "Poor Rachel."

"Hmm?" Gilbert's mind had wandered off while Anne was reading quietly.

"Her Katherine is unwell, she has Scarlet Fever."

"Katherine? I didn't know she had a Katherine. When is this?"

"1856. Marilla and Matthew take in her children to help. Gosh there are five older ones. Marilla's finding it busy keeping up with them all, and she's getting a better understanding of motherhood. The reason we never knew about Katherine was that she died."

"Oh poor baby."

"The next entry is ten years later. Listen to this, she's wondering where she went wrong? She says she was too impetuous and stubborn. She's put love away." There were some intimate words there, which Anne did not think Marilla would want Gilbert to know, so she editorialised. "Hey she mentions you, Gil."

"Me? What does she say?"

"You look like a gorgeous scamp apparently."

"Ha. I probably was at that."

"She thinks your parents must have had problems, that's why you're an only."

"Yes, that's right." Gilbert went a bit quiet, thinking of all his siblings that didn't make it.

"And now Avonlea is whispering that she's a dried up old thing."

"Ugh that town, they're quite poisonous aren't they."

"She's worried about Matthew."

"All those years earlier?"

"Yes, that interesting isn't it."

"Look here we are, 1876. Matthew spoke, she was shocked. He thinks they should get a boy to help out around the place."

"Aha."

* * *

"Well it's getting late. Shall I continue tomorrow night?"

Gilbert reached over to turn off the lamp and lay down with Anne snuggled by his side. "Their life is about to change forever."

Anne giggled next to him. "Yes, I rather burst in on them, shook them up."

"Everyone actually."

"Cheeky." Anne replied sleepily as he kissed her good night.


	7. Chapter 7 Epilogue 2

For **Anne With An E Story**.

 **Epilogue 2**

* * *

Days had passed since Anne last read Marilla's diary. First Walter was unwell, and he passed the thing on to the others as brothers will. At one point it seemed to Anne and Gilbert with Susan's able assistance that they had no time to spare between tending to six sick children. They flew past each other fetching bowls, clothes, toys, books, pajamas etc. So, it was nearly a fortnight later before Anne and Gil were finally able to dedicate some time to reading.

It was a cold night outside, the land blanketed with a light dusting of snow and more coming down by the second. Susan had placed hot bricks on both sides of the bed, so snuggled up together they were warm enough. Anne's silver flecked red hair cascaded down her shoulders. Anne's editorialising was more interesting than Gil's medical journal.

"Oh!" she exclaimed.

'What is it darling?'

"I've just arrived. Do you know I knew she wasn't keen on me at first? She made that perfectly clear. But I oh," Anne burst into tears, letting the journal tumble off her knees.

Gilbert murmured words of comfort, reminding her that it all worked out in the end.

"I know," Anne sighed eventually. "But it takes me back to my eleven-year-old self. I was overjoyed to find Green Gables and then to have it all ripped away so quickly. You just can't understand the depths of my despair. Speaking of which, she said at the time that she didn't know what I was talking about, but aha, of course she did, I know that now."

"Not that she was going to confide to you on your first day." Gilbert mused.

"No," she glanced up, I suppose not. Oh Marilla," Anne sighed.

Gilbert looked up from his journal in some exasperation. She'd been quiet for a bit and he thought he might get some reading in. "Are you going to sigh all night long?"

"Sorry. She compares my situation to going from the frypan into the fire. My eyes saved me."

"Well I know I find them very beautiful, darling."

"I put my hand in hers and she felt the first throb of maternity. Oh Marilla, I don't know when I started thinking of you as my mother. Gil," she said looking across at him, tears welling in her eyes, "I just wish I could have had this insight at the time. We both loved each other so deeply but it took years for us to express it."

"Marilla told you she loved you every day," Gilbert stated matter of factly.

"Well … not exactly."

"Not in words perhaps, but in deeds. She was there for you. She fed and clothed you. She didn't have to do that, remember. She gave you the freedom to have a childhood, an education. She may not have kissed you goodnight and smothered you with kisses, but she expressed her love all right."

"Yes, you're right of course. I would have liked the other too, is all."

"I know sweetheart. You wear your heart on your sleeve and you're always surprised when everyone else doesn't."

"Mm hm," Anne nodded, she was reading again rather than paying attention. "She's asked God to forgive her for forgetting that I must have had a sad start. Yet she was laughing on the inside at my first prayer."

"Why what did you say?"

"I can't recall, knowing me it must have been quite something."

Gilbert chuckled, "I bet. You certainly made an impression on me." He rubbed his head.

Anne laughed, "listen. She loved it when I flew at Rachel. This is just so interesting to me Gil. Every time she was chastising me, she was laughing inwardly." Anne shook her head in wonder. "My God she should have been onstage. What a performance!"

"She was good alright, should have been a card shark," Gilbert grinned. "I can just see her now, a thin line of smoke rising from a cigarillo, her glasses perched over her nose glancing around the room at her opponents."

Anne looked at him, her eyes scrunched up, "um, this is Marilla we're talking about, right?"

Gilbert laughed, "yes, sorry. My imagination got carried away there. As you were ..."

Anne replied over him, "… Ha, but this time I drew the wool over her eyes, she thought she broke my resolve when it was Matthew all along. I only told her the truth a few years ago."

"Hm?"

"I was locked up in my room, sequestered until I apologised to Rachel. Took days, and I see here her resolve was waning. But Matthew came to our rescue and convinced me I could cobble together an apology just to keep the peace. She never knew until I told her. Remember that time we celebrated Matthews birthday?"

Gil looked up sharply, "you never let on until then?"

"Nope, I never did."

That's quite an achievement for you, sweetheart," Gilbert looked at her admiringly.

"Well the moment passed, and we got on with our lives. There was just never a time to bring it up." She glanced across when Gilbert did not answer and saw he was still trying to read his medical treatise. Rolling her eyes, she turned them back to her mother's spidery but fine writing. Reading quietly, she couldn't contain a hoot of laughter. Frustrated, Gilbert gave up. He put his article down figuring no work would be done tonight. "What now?"

"My celebrated apology to Rachel. I never noticed being caught up in the moment, but Marilla was laughing fit to bust. She was surprised Rachel fell for it." Anne scanned the next page. "Here she is telling me I can call them Marilla and Matthew." Anne laughed, "no wonder I drove her a bit crazy. Of course, I had to ask if I could call them aunt and uncle."

"No, was the answer I'm guessing."

Anne looked up at him, "the only people who got to call her aunt are our children, Gil."

"Of course."

"Poor darling, another headache felled her. They were really very nasty, I remember. Oh look, here's an epoch in my life. My introduction to Diana Barry."

Gilbert rolled over and lay on his side, idly caressing Anne's flank. She glanced down at the blanket that lay over his restless hand but looked back at the diary after a pause. She smiled to herself, "she says that she finds Eliza Barry rather cold in manner and then reflects that Eliza might feel the same way about her."

"That's remarkably perceptive," Gil murmured, by now his mind was diverted away from his departed mother in law. As the pressure mounted, Anne found it increasingly difficult to keep her attention on Marilla too. She marked her place and put the diary down on her bedside table before she blew out the candle. The diary would wait, her husband not so much.

The following night, she took it up again with some trepidation, expecting to find a not very pleasant memory. She was right.

Gilbert dispensed with any thought of his medical journal when he saw Anne pick up the diary again. Reading how disappointed Marilla was with her, brought fresh tears to Anne's eyes. 'Where are we up to now?" Gilbert enquired gently.

"She thinks I'm a thief. Thinks I lost her brooch."

"Ah, the famous and much cherished brooch," Gilbert said sardonically with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Stop it. It was bad. The worst moment we had. She couldn't find it and as I was the last person to see it, she assumed I'd stolen it. She's angry she let me into her heart."

"Sounds like she was pretty much in love with you already then," Gilbert commented.

"Well yes, but I didn't know that." Anne explained. "And she feels the same way, she's shocked I managed to hurt her so."

"How long was she angry at you?" Gilbert was curious.

"Oh, it blew over the next day, when she found the brooch. I'd cooked up one of my stories about where I'd lost it, because she wouldn't believe the truth. She says she'll forgive me for making up stories, if I can forgive her for doubting her in the first place. I was so lost though. I knew I was innocent, but nothing I could say would make it right. I was like a fly caught in a spider's web."

"You know, thinking about it. She's remarkably fair," Gil mused. "I doubt many foster parents would be prepared to admit fault to their charges," he glanced across the bed at Anne with a sharp look. "You were pretty lucky to have her as your guardian."

Tears streamed down Anne's face, "I know I was, wasn't I. I miss her so much, Gil. I just wish I could tell her I loved her, one last time."

"There, there, she knew. You told her that every day. If there's one thing I know and she knew, it's the depth of your love," Gilbert consoled her.

"She said, when Matthew died that crying wouldn't bring him back, and it can't. But it hurts Gil. It hurt just after she died, and it hurts reading this diary now."

"Maybe you should stop, if it hurts that much?" suggested Gilbert.

"Oh no," Anne clasped the precious tome to her chest. No, I want to keep reading." She heaved a big breath and turned the page reading on. "Aha, Gilbert. A watershed moment. I start school!"

"Uh oh," replied Gil, rubbing his head in memory of that fateful day.

"Of course she had history with your family. You were just a random annoying boy to me, but she knew you and your wily Blytheian ways!'

Gilbert grinned at her, "I like that. He put on a wicked face, "that's why you love me so."

"Well now yes. Back then, not so much."

Anne let out a hoot of laughter at the next entry. "What is it now?" Gilbert exclaimed. Really this was the most amusing thing Anne had read in ages.

"I forgot to cover the pudding sauce and a mouse drowned in it. We nearly served it to the Ross family."

"Hm I do like this sauce, Miss Cuthbert," Gilbert mimicked in a high voice, "there's a certain je ne sais pas about the flavour, essence de mouse perchance?"

Anne batted him with one hand, balancing the diary with the other. "You beast."

Gilbert laughed at her, "get lost in another day dream did we?"

"Hmm," Anne responded crossly. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Well just a wee bit, darling." He leant over and kissed her on the tip of her nose.

"My love of nature and imagination drivers her batty. What's the difference between one month and the next, she asks?" Anne remarked with a smile. "Poor Marilla, she is at sixes and sevens with me. But uh oh," Anne paused, "here we go again. Another disaster looms."

"Mm?" Gilbert queried, thinking what now? Gilbert didn't see much of Anne in these early days and had only a vague idea of the sorts of mischief she cooked up, he'd heard most of the stories, but even then, his chronology was imprecise.

"It's the time I got Diana drunk."

"Oooh," whistled Gilbert, "even I remember that!"

"It's amusing reading Marilla's take on it." Anne scanned the entry. "If only I'd ever tried her raspberry cordial before. Oh!" Anne exclaimed. Do you know she blames Diana's self-indulgence. Says that if she hadn't had three glasses of the stuff, we might have got away with it." She laughed, "and she's curious about how Eliza recognized the symptoms in the first place, being such a crushing teetotaler."

Gilbert smacked his thigh in amusement. "Marilla Blythe, you are too funny. She has a point too, you know," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "Usually takes one to know one," he winked.

"Very droll. I was dismayed though. Diana and I were separated for ever such a long time because of it. I had only just started making friends and to be parted from my bosom friend at such a critical time was dreadful. Oh," Anne stopped suddenly.

"What?"

"She says she kissed my tear stained cheek when I was asleep. I wish she'd been able to kiss me when I was conscious. I felt so alone." I never knew she kissed me, not ever." Anne sat and thought about it for quite some time. Gilbert looked across at her. "You probably can't understand, Gil. I was just so alone in the world. I adored Matthew and I suppose I liked Marilla, but I desperately wanted someone to love me, for myself and I didn't know that she did, not yet at any rate. And then Diana was taken from me through no fault of my own. It was just a very lonely time." She scanned the next page and smiled as she read, 'I am proud of her.'

After a pause, when it appeared Anne was not going to say anymore, Gil suggested that that was enough for the night. "Time for bed, sweetheart? Shall I put out the light?"

"Mmm, yes. I suppose so." Anne marked her place before she put the journal down on her bedside table. Laying down on her side, facing away from Gil in the dark room, she drifted off to thoughts of her younger self.


End file.
